


Until the Sun Rises in the West and Sets in the East

by MiddleofNowhere92



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Game of Thrones References, Game of Thrones Spoilers, Game of Thrones-esque, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27497584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiddleofNowhere92/pseuds/MiddleofNowhere92
Summary: Cue the Game of Thrones theme music!! DUN DUN DA DUN DUN DA DA DUUUUUN“When Watertribesmen are defeated in combat, they cut off their wolf’s tail, so the whole world can see their shame.” The man in front of them had hair that reached down his back. Her brother emphasized, “Khal Sokka has never been defeated.”He added, “He’s a savage of course, but he’s one of the finest killers alive.” Zuko whispered, “And you will be his queen.”For Sokkla Saturdays 2020 Prompt 3: Arranged Marriage, Prompt 5: A Song of Ice and Fire, Prompt 7 Loyalty
Relationships: Azula & Sokka (Avatar), Azula/Sokka (Avatar)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted chapter one and then went back and added more, because if I'm doing GOT I want to do it right and give Sokka and Azula the fic they deserve. 
> 
> Trigger warning: Based on Game of thrones so trigger for weird sibling relationships, abuse, threats and animal sex references that I apparently forgot about. Warning for implied thought of suicide/self harm.

Azula stood at the bow of the ship, overlooking the land of snow and ice before her. Her brother’s call of her name broke her thoughts, “Azula!” He came towards her holding a bundle of fabric in his hands. His tone was less sharp this time, “Azula, there’s our bride to be.” He held the blood red material out to her, “A gift from Uncle.” He beckoned her in a giddy tone, “Touch it. Go on, feel the fabric.”

Azula touched the dress that was so smooth, it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She couldn’t remember ever wearing anything so fine. It unsettled her. She pulled back her hand, as if burned, and asked, “Is it really mine?”

Her brother cooed, “Isn’t Uncle gracious?” Azula thought aloud, “He's been banished with us for years and never asked us for anything.” Azula was still young, but she was old enough to know that everything had a price. Her brother answered, “Well, Uncle’s no fool. He knows I won’t forget his kindness when I come into my throne.” 

Azula chose not to respond. Her Uncle, the Great General Iroh, the Dragon of the West had friends in all four nations and even beyond, in the South Pole and the Spirit World. It was also said he would cheerfully keep his friends happy for the right price. Azula had heard these things, but she never questioned her brother’s schemes. His temper was a terrible thing. He referred to it as “waking the dragon.” 

Zuko took her hand and led her into the ship. He handed the dress to a maid and studied his sister, “You still slouch.” He reached behind her untying her dress, “Let them see, you have a woman’s body now.” Azula looked up in shame as the fabric fell away from her. 

She gazed off distantly as her brother appraised her. He commented, “I need you to be perfect today.” He looked down at her, “Can you do that for me?” She was unsure of how to respond. He threatened, “You don’t want to awake the dragon? Do you?”

She shook her head and quietly answered, “No.” He nodded and began walking away. He turned back, “When they write the history of my reign, sweet sister, they will say it began today.”

He left her to prepare. She slowly stepped into the tub that had been readied and wondered briefly what it would be if she submerged herself and let the almost boiling water fill her lungs. The steam curled around her. A handmaiden spoke up, “It’s too hot, m’lady.” Azula didn’t cry out as the water reddened her pale skin. She found peace in the heat. Her brother would often remind her that it couldn’t be too hot for a Sozin, “Ours is the house of the dragon. The fire is in our blood.” 

She turned away from the ship’s narrow window. The sun outside reflected off of the multitude of ice and was nearly blinding. She could hear singing and chanting and children playing games. Just for a moment, she let herself wish she could be with them- breathless and dressed in tatters. 

Somewhere closer to the sun, across the seas lay a land much warmer than this one, with an abundance of flowers and running rivers. Uncle had told her the Southern Water Tribe called it  _ Rhaesh Vorsa _ , the Land of Fire. In the lands far from the Avatar’s grasp, it was referred to as the Sunset Kingdom. Her brother simply called it, “Our land.” He said it like a prayer- if he said it enough, the Spirits were sure to hear. He usually followed it by saying something like, “Ours by blood right, taken by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon. Oh, no. The dragon remembers.” 

Maybe the dragon remembered, but Azula barely could. She foggily remembered a land beyond the sea. Her brother talked about their land often enough, but at some point it had just turned into words for her. Sometimes though, she could piece it together from his stories. 

Zuko would promise her, “We will have it back someday, sister. The jewels and silks, the Golden Throne and the Four Nations. All that they have taken from us, we will have it back.” All Zuko lived for was to see that day. All that Azula wanted back was a mother she had never known and a father she could hardly remember. Their mother, Ursa, had left when Azula was a child and her brother still didn’t forgive her for it. 

The maid entered and began combing out the snags in Azula’s onyx hair. She scrubbed her back and feet and told her how lucky she was, “Sokka is very rich. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.” Azula sat in silence as the maid carried on in that vein, about what a handsome man the Khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, so on and so forth. 

Azula said nothing. When she was young she had heard rumors that she would be wed to Zuko. For centuries her family had done this, to keep the bloodline pure. Her brother had told her a thousand times, theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of the Fire Nation, the blood of the dragon. Dragons didn’t mate with beasts, and Sozins did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Zuko schemed to sell her to a barbarian.

Once she was dressed, she was presented to her uncle and brother. Zuko whined, “You’re too skinny.” He glanced at Uncle, “Are you sure Sokka will like her?” Iroh answered, “Of course, Your Grace, she will not fail to entrance the Khal. Her brother shrugged, “I suppose savages have queer tastes- boys, horses, sheep…” Azula bit her tongue, literally, and swallowed the metallic taste along with the choice words she had for her dear Zuzu. 

Azula stood in the thin red gown. The gentle winds of the south pole blew the transparent silk. Her Uncle and brother stood ahead of her. Zuko asked her uncle, “Where is he?” Iroh replied simply, “The Watertribesmen are not known for their punctuality.” Her brother grimaced, but resumed facing forward. 

Azula could have been waiting on the top of the ships’ steps for hours or minutes, she wasn’t sure. Eventually she heard loud thumping as if a stampede of animals were headed their way. She saw a horde of men riding giant wolves come to a halt in front of her uncle and brother. Her Uncle stepped forward warmly speaking in an unfamiliar tongue. 

Iroh switched back to the common tongue, “May I present Zuko of House Sozin, first of his name, the rightful king of the Four Nations and the Spirits and Protector of the Realm. His sister, Azula of House Sozin, Princess of the Fire Nation.”

The retired general continued to approach the man at the front of the horde and easily slipped back into the language that was unfamiliar and thick to her ears. Zuko took her hand and pulled her to his side. He smirked, “Do you see how long his hair is?” She took in the massive man that her uncle was speaking at. 

Her brother continued, “When Watertribesmen are defeated in combat, they cut off their wolf’s tail, so the whole world can see their shame.” The man in front of them that had hair that reached down his back. Her brother emphasized, “Khal Sokka has never been defeated.”

He added, “He’s a savage of course, but he’s one of the finest killers alive.” Zuko whispered, “And you will be his queen.” Before she could process the meaning of her brother’s words, Uncle beckoned her forward, “Come forward, my dear.” Her brother hissed, “Stand up straight, your breasts look small enough as it is.”

Azula stood up straight and tentatively stepped down the steel stairs of the ship. She was sure the savage in front of her could easily see most of her body through the sheer dress she had been dressed in. She walked past her uncle, until she was directly in front of the warrior. He stared down at her, some of his dark skin painted in blue and black. His sharp blue eyes bore into her, wordlessly taking her in. 

Azula knew if she didn’t meet his gaze, her brother would lash out at her later. She looked up and noted that the maid hadn’t been far off. He had to be a head taller than the tallest man she had ever seen, yet somehow on top of his wolf he seemed graceful and light. He was younger than she imagined, couldn’t be more than thirty. His skin was the color of polished copper, his nose and eyebrows adorned with gold rings. 

After a moment, the large man pulled at the reins of his wolf and the pack rode off. Her brother ran down the steps and squawked, “Where’s he going?” Her Uncle calmly answered, “The ceremony is over.” Zuko stuttered, “But he didn’t say anything!” His voice raised in pitch as he asked, “Did he like her?” Her Uncle’s voice was even as he answered, “Trust me your grace, if he didn’t like her, we’d know.” 

They walked back up the steps of the ship and looked over the icy wasteland in front of them. Iroh stood near her brother and spoke, “It won’t be long now. Soon you will cross the seas and take back your father’s throne. The people drink secret toasts to your health. They cry out for their true king.” Azula mistrusted her uncle’s sweet words, just as she mistrusted everything about him. Her brother however, nodded eagerly.

Zuko began walking towards the interior of the ship. Azula and her Uncle trailed behind him. Her brother prodded, “When will they be married?” Her Uncle answered in a chipper tone, “Soon! The Watertribesmen never stay still for long.”

He asked, “Is it true they lie with their horses?” The older man answered, “I wouldn’t ask Khal Sokka.” She heard her brother’s tone change as he shot back, “Do you take me for a fool?” Her uncle backpedaled, “I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I have given offense.”

Her brother responded petulantly, “I know how to play a man like Sokka. I give him a queen and he gives me an army.” Azula stopped walking and finally snapped, “I don’t want to be his queen.” The two men looked at her as if she were a four hundred foot tall platypus bear with pink horns and silver wings. 

She clarified, her voice almost as cold as the ice outside, “I want to go home.” Her brother retorted, “So do I.” He stalked towards her, “I want us both to go home, but they took it from us. So tell me sweet sister, how do we go home?” He paused and Azula realized, “I don’t know.” 

He assured, “We go home, with an army.” His hand reached up to stroke her face, “With Khal Sokka’s army. I would let his whole tribe fuck you- all forty thousand men and their horses, if that’s what it took.” He held her chin and pressed a kiss to her forehead with a tenderness that didn’t match his words. 

Her brother turned away and she wordlessly followed, the thin red silk flowing behind her. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on Game of Thrones so all the trigger warnings that go with that (violence, weird sibling stuff)
> 
> Involves Azula and her family so all the trigger warnings that go with that (implied referenced physical and mental abuse)

Sokka had called upon his khalasar and they had come, forty thousand warriors and uncounted numbers of women and children. They camped in the icy vastness, eating everything in sight, making Azula more anxious with every passing day.

The Khal had joined his khalasar, giving his abode over to Azula and her family until they wed. As Azula slept in the icy palace, she did so fitfully. She dreamt of Father hitting her, hurting her. She ran, but her body didn’t comply with her mind. He struck her again. She stumbled and fell. “You woke the dragon,” he screamed as he kicked her. She was startled by a crackling of lightning. When she looked again, Father was gone, great columns of flame all around and in the midst was a dragon. It turned its great head slowly. Its molten eyes found hers. She woke up shaking. She had never been so afraid…

...until the day of her wedding.

The ceremony began at dusk and would continue until dawn, an endless night of drinking, feasting and dancing. Azula wed the Khal under the light of the full moon. The Tribe believed that all things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneath the open sky and the light of the moon and stars. 

The incessant beating of drums was loud and ominous. 

Azula sat perched next to her husband above the sea of the Tribe. She took in the savagery that was her wedding feast. She had never seen so many people in one place. Out under the open night sky, the Tribe kept the old ways. The men and women were adorned in blue and white furs, many of the warriors proudly showing their long braids. They stuffed themselves with wolf flesh, drank themselves blind on wine and spat jests at each other across the fires. The language was still harsh and unforgiving to Azula. Her husband’s face remained unreadable as he sat beside her. 

Her uncle and brother were seated below them. Theirs was a place of high honor, just below the Khal’s own bloodriders, his sworn protectors, but Azula could see the anger simmer in her brother’s golden eyes. He did not take well to sitting  _ beneath _ her, and he fumed when each dish was first offered to the Khal and his bride, and he was served the portions they refused. He could do nothing, but nurse his resentment, so nurse it he did, his mood growing blacker by the hour at each insult to his honor.

Azula never felt so alone as she did in the midst of the vast horde. Zuko had instructed her to look happy, so she smiled until her cheeks ached and tears formed at her eyes. She did her best to hide them, knowing how Zuko would react if he saw her crying, terrified of how the Khal, the newest tormentor in her life, would react.

There was no one to talk to. The Khal shouted commands and jests down to his blood riders and laughed at their replies, but he hardly glanced at his bride beside him. They had no common language. Theirs was incomprehensible to her and the Khal only knew a few words of a bastardized version of the common tongue. She would have even taken talking to her brother or uncle, but they were lost in their own chatter.

So she sat in her wedding silks, which were impractical for this tundra, as she nursed a cup of wine, talking silently to herself.  _ I am Azula Sozin, Princess of the Fire Nation, of the blood of the dragon.  _

She poked at the so-called food in front of her. There was something that looked particularly bloody and uncooked. She couldn’t stomach it. The smell alone sent her stomach rolling. 

She distantly heard her brother ask Uncle, “When do I meet with the Khal? We need to begin planning the invasion.” Iroh answered calmly, “Khal Sokka has promised you a crown and you shall have it.” Zuko snapped, “When?” The old general drawled, “When the Khal chooses. He must have the girl first, and after he must make his procession and present her to  _ dosh khaleen _ at Vaes Eveth. After that, when their omens favor war.” Her brother pouted, “I piss on Watertribe omens. I’ve waited long enough to get my throne back.” 

Uncle attempted to comfort him, “Be Patient, Your Grace. The Tribesmen are true to their word, but they do things in their own time. A lesser man may beg a favor from the Khal, but must never presume to berate him." Azula could visibly see her brother bristle, like an angry cat, “Guard your tongue Uncle, or I’ll cut it out. I am no lesser man. I am the rightful heir of the Four Nations. The dragon does not beg.” 

There are no more dragons, Azula thought, she bit her tongue to keep the words from tumbling out. 

Azula’s golden eyes drifted back to the scene in front of her. Some of the women were dancing. Sokka watched expressionless when two men began drunkenly brawling. They spilled out onto the dance floor impossible for Azula to ignore. They pulled out their weapons. They circled and slashed, leaping towards each other, whirling their clubs around their heads, spitting insults at each other. No one interfered. In an instant a man was maimed. His rival easily sliced off his wolf’s tail and it held it up for all to see. Her brother grinned widely at the display of violence. 

As the hours passed, the terror grew in Azula until it was all she could do not to scream. She was afraid of this horde, whose ways seemed downright barbaric, as if they were beasts in human skins and not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most of all, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to the giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask.

_ I am the blood of the dragon _ , she reminded herself. 

People of all kinds brought up bride gifts for her. She wanted to turn and run as a man approached with a trunk full of minksnakes. Zuko glanced over from where he sat below her, knowing damn well how she felt about the heinous creatures. The gifts mounted up around her in great piles, more gifts than she could want or use. 

Her husband’s thick voice and even thicker language spoke to a man that looked like he was from the Fire Nation. The man approached and greeted Azula in the common tongue, “A small gift for the new Khaleesi,” he handed her a stack of books, “songs and histories from the Four Nations.” 

Azula responded, “Thank you. Are you from my country?” The dark haired man answered, “General Zhao of Crescent Island. I served your father for many years. Spirits be good to those that serve the rightful king.” He gave Zuko a pointed look. 

The man backed away and her Uncle presented her with a trunk. He lifted the lid to reveal three large eggs nestled in fine fabrics. They were the most beautiful thing Azula had ever seen, each patterned in such rich colors, that at first she thought they were encrusted in jewels, and so large it took both her hands to grasp one. She lifted it delicately, expecting it to be fragile, but it had a great weight to it. The surface was covered with tiny scales that shimmered in the moonlight. One egg was a deep green, another a pale cream and the last as black as night. Her uncle explained, “Dragon eggs Azula, the ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful.” She thanked him and actually meant it. 

Her brother gifted her with three handmaids. “These are no common servants sweet sister,” her brother told her as they were brought forward. “Uncle and I selected them personally for you. June will teach you riding, Ming-Hua their language and Jin will instruct you in the womanly arts of love.” He smiled thinly, “She’s very good, I can swear to that.” Azula closed her fist to keep from rolling her eyes. 

The Khal’s bloodriders offered her the traditional three weapons, and splendid they were- a great club with a silver handle, a magnificent jaw blade cased in gold and a whale tooth saber taller than Azula. Her uncle taught her the traditional refusals for these offerings, “This is a gift worthy of a great warrior, O blood of my blood, and that I am but a woman, Let my lord husband bear these in my stead.” And so Khal Sokka too received his gifts.

After the gifts, she knew it would be time for her first ride and the consummation of her marriage. Azula tried to cast the thought aside, but it haunted her. She hugged herself to suppress her shaking. 

When at last the sun peeked over the horizon, Khal Sokka clapped his hands together. A hush rippled out from the center of the camp, growing until it had swallowed the whole khalasar. The drums and the shouting and the feasting abruptly halted. The massive warrior that was her husband stood. Her uncle and brother motioned for her to follow, so she hurriedly did. He walked through the chaotic sea of wedding guests and they cleared a path before him. Azula could feel the thousands of eyes burning into her as she trailed along, taking quick steps in vain to catch up with the Khal’s impossibly large stride. 

He presented her with a wolf of her own, her fur black as night. There was something about her that took Azula’s breath away. Khal Sokka said something and her uncle translated, “Black fur for the black of your hair, the Khal says.” She stroked the soft fur and spoke, “She’s beautiful.” 

“She is the pride of the khalasar,” Uncle informed her. “Custom decrees that the Khaleesi must ride a mount worthy of her place by the side of the Khal.”

She turned to the old portly man, “I don’t know how to say thank you.” He answered, “They have no word for thank you.”

Her husband stepped forward and put his hands on her waist. He easily and wordlessly hoisted her atop the wolf, as if she weighed nothing. Azula was uncertain for a moment. She asked, “What should I do?” Her uncle instructed, “Take the reins and ride. You need not go far.”

Azula gathered the reins in her delicate hands. She was only a fair rider; she spent far more time traveling by ship and palanquin than on an animal. She prayed to Agni that she wouldn’t fall off and disgrace herself, she gave the wolf a timid touch with her knees. 

And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was the first time ever. 

The dark wolf moved with a smooth and silken gait, and the crowd that had surrounded her, parted for her, but every eye was still upon her. Azula found herself moving faster than she intended, yet somehow it was thrilling rather than terrifying. As the wolf broke out into a jog, Azula smiled. The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch of the reins and the wolf responded.

She sent it into a gallop and the Tribespeople were hooting and laughing and shouting at her. As she turned to ride back, a campfire loomed directly in her path. They were surrounded by people on either side with no room to stop. A daring she had never felt before filled Azula then and she nudged the shewolf onward.

The dark wolf leapt the flames as though it had wings. 

Azula pulled up breathless in front of her uncle, “Tell Khal Sokka he has given me the wind.” Her uncle repeated her words in the foreign tongue. Azula saw her husband smile for the first time. 

The sun seemed to fully rise over the horizon just then. Azula had lost track of time completely. Khal Sokka commanded his bloodriders to bring forth his own wolf, a massive white animal. As the Khal saddled his wolf, Zuko slid close to his sister, “Please him sister, or I swear, you will see the dragon wake as it has never woken before.” The fear came back to her then. She felt alone again, wanting her mother, not ready for what was to happen to her. 

Azula knew what came now. Her brother had warned her of it, “The Tribesmen mate like animals in their herds. There is no privacy in a khalasar. They do not understand sin or shame as we do.”

The Khal rode off and her wolf followed, leaving the khalasar behind. Khal Sokka didn’t speak to her, but drove his wolf forward. “I am the blood of the dragon,” she whispered in an attempt to keep her courage up. “I am the blood of the dragon. I am the blood of the dragon.” The dragon was never afraid. 

She couldn’t say how far or how long they had ridden, but the sun had fully risen when they stopped. Sokka swung off his wolf and lifted her down from hers. She felt fragile as glass in his hands, her limbs as weak as water. She stood there helpless and trembling in her thin silks while he secured the wolves, and when he finally looked at her she began to cry. 

Sokka stared at her tears, his blue eyes strangely empty of expression. “No,” he said. He lifted his hand and rubbed away the tears roughly with his calloused thumb. 

“You speak the common tongue,” Azula said in wonder. 

“No,” he said again.

He probably only had that word, she thought, but it was one more word than she knew he had, so it made her feel a little better. Sokka touched her hair lightly, sliding the black strands through his fingers and murmuring softly in his language. Azula didn’t understand the words, but there was warmth in his tone, a tenderness she hadn’t expected. 

He crooked his large finger under her chin and lifted her face, so she was looking up into his eyes, which were as blue as the sea that brought her to him. Sokka towered over her as he towered over everyone. Taking her lightly under her arms, he lifted her and seated her on a raised snow bank that had furs piled on top of it. He sat on the ground facing her, legs crossed beneath him, their faces finally at the same height. “No,” he said.

“Is that the only word you know?” she asked. 

He didn’t reply, but his intense gaze was studying her. His long wolf’s tail was coiled in the white snow beside him. He pulled it over his shoulder and began taking out the ties that secured it, one by one. After a moment, Azula leaned forward to help. When they were done, Sokka gestured. She understood. Slowly, carefully, she began to undo the many braids in his hair.

It took a long time. He sat there silently, watching her. When she was done, he shook his head, his hair finally spilling loose. She bit back a smile. He reminded her of a dog shaking itself off after a good scratch or a bath. His eyes met hers and a small smile ghosted his lips too. 

Azula marveled at his hair when it was fully down. She had never seen such long hair, it spread out behind him like a mahogany river through the snow. 

Azula knew it was now her turn. She reached back and undid the tie behind her neck that was holding up her dress. He helped her, his fingers were strangely deft and tender. He removed her silks one by one, carefully. When her small breasts were exposed, she covered them with her hands and averted her eyes. “No,” Sokka said. He pulled her hands away, gently but firmly, then lifted her face again to make her look at him. “No,” he repeated.

“No,” she echoed back.

He stood her up then to remove the last of her silks. Even though the sun was high in the sky, the air was chilly on her bare skin. She shivered, goosebumps breaking out covering her arms and legs. She was afraid of what was to come next, but for a while nothing happened… Khal Sokka sat with his legs crossed, looking at her.

After a while, he began to lightly touch her. She could sense the fierce strength in his hands, but he never hurt her. He held her small porcelain hand in his large tan one. He stroked her face, a finger gently tracing her lips. He put both hands in her hair and combed it with his fingers. He turned her around, massaged her shoulders, and slid a knuckle down the path of her spine.

It seemed as hours had passed before his hands finally touched her breasts. He stroked the soft skin just underneath and it made her shiver. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, lightly pinching them between his thumb and forefinger, until they stiffened and began to ache,

He stopped then and drew her onto his lap. Azula was flushed and breathless. He cupped her face in his huge hands and her amber eyes met his blue ones. “No?” he said, but she knew it was a question.

She took his hand and moved it to the wetness between her thighs. “Yes,” she moaned, as she put his thick finger inside of her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written a fic based off of another work like this before and it has me constantly questioning myself. I'm still like oh maybe Zuzu should have flipped roles with Azula or why did I pick wolves instead of polar bear dogs or direwolves? Even the side characters I'm hesitant putting in their roles like Zhao and Jin etc. I constantly argue it out with myself but then decide I like everything as is. *shrugs* 
> 
> I've made the SWT less violent and rapey than in GOT. It's just not Sokka's vibe and the book alludes to the Khal not really being like that either so that's it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Graphic depictions of injuries/violence, thoughts of suicide.

The khalasar had broken camp the morning after her wedding, moving east towards Vaes Eveth. By the third day, Azula thought she was going to die. Saddle sores opened on her bottom, hideous and bloody. Her thighs were chafed raw, her hands blistered from the reigns, the muscles of her legs and back so wracked with pain she could scarcely sit. By the time dusk fell, her handmaids would need to help her down from her mount. 

Khal Sokka ignored her when they rode, as he had ignored her for most of their wedding, and spent his evenings drinking with his warriors and bloodriders, racing wolves. Azula had no place in these parts of his life. She was left to sup alone, or with General Zhao and her brother, and afterwards cry herself to sleep. Yet every night, sometime before dawn, Sokka would come to her bed. He always slept pressed against her back, for which Azula was grateful. That way her Lord Husband could not see the tears that wet her face and she could use the pillow to muffle any further sobs that poured out of her. He would snore softly with Azula beside him, her body bruised and sore, hurting too much for sleep. 

Day followed day, and night followed night, until Azula knew she could not endure a moment longer. One night she decided she would kill herself rather than go on. 

Yet when she slept that night, she dreamt the dragon dream again. Father was not in it this time. There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood, her blood, Azula sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma, and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her. She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce. 

And the next day, strangely she did not seem to hurt quite so much. It was as if the spirits had heard her and taken pity. Even her handmaids noticed the change. “Khaleesi,” Ming Hua said, “What is wrong? Are you sick?”

“I was,” she answered, standing over the dragon’s eggs that Uncle had given her when she wed. She touched one, the largest of the three, running her hand lightly over the shell. Black and scarlet, she thought, like the dragon in my dream. The stone felt strangely warm beneath her fingers… or was she still dreaming? She pulled her hand back nervously.

From that hour onward, each day was easier than the one before it. Her legs grew stronger; her blisters burst and her hands grew callused; her soft thighs toughened, supple as leather.

The Khal had commanded the handmaid June to teach Azula to ride in the way of the Tribe, but it was her wolf who was her real teacher. The wolf seemed to know her moods, as if they shared a single mind. With every passing day, Azula felt surer in her seat. The Water Tribe were a hard and unsentimental people, and it was not their custom to name their animals, but Azula still thought of her as Nymeria, the warrior queen Azula had been told tales of as a child. She had never loved anything as much as she loved her wolf. 

As the riding became less an ordeal, Azula began to notice the beauties of the land around her. She rode at the head of the khalasar with Sokka and his bloodriders, so she came to each scene fresh and unspoiled. Behind them, the great horde might tear the land and muddy the rivers, but the lands ahead of them were always white and pure. 

They crossed rolling hills, past small villages where the people watched anxiously. They forded three wide placid rivers and a fourth that was swift and narrow and treacherous, camped beside a high blue waterfall, skirted the tumbled ruins of a vast dead city where spirits were said to moan among blackened marble columns. They raced down paths a thousand years old and straight as an arrow. 

Her agony became a fading memory. She still ached after a long day’s ride, yet somehow the pain had a sweetness to it now, and each morning she came willingly to her saddle, eager to know what wonders awaited her in the lands ahead. 

“The Water Tribe Sea,” General Zhao said as he reigned to a halt beside Azula on the top of the ridge. 

Beneath them, the icy tundra stretched out immense and empty, a vast flat expanse that reached to the distant horizon and beyond. It was a sea, she thought. Past here, there were no hills, no mountains, no trees nor cities nor roads, only the endless snow, the white mounds rippling like waves when the winds blew. 

Azula heard the sounds of voices and turned to look behind her. She and Zhao had outdistanced the rest of their party, and now the others were climbing the ridge below them. Her handmaid June and the young warriors of her khas were fluid as centaurs, but Zuko still struggled with the short stirrups and the flat saddle atop his wolf. Her brother was miserable out here. He ought never have come. Uncle had urged him to wait in the port, but Zuko would have none of it. He would stay with Sokka until the debt had been paid, until he had the crown he had been promised. “And if he tries to cheat me, he will learn to his sorrow what it means to wake the dragon,” Zuko had vowed , laying hands on his broadswords. Uncle had blinked at that and wished him good fortune.

Azula realized that she did not want to listen to any of her brother’s complaints right now. The day was too perfect. The sky was a deep blue, and high above them a hunting sea vulture circled. The snow swayed and sighed with each breath of the wind, the air was cool over her face and Azula felt at peace. She would not let Zuko spoil it. 

“Wait here,” Azula told General Zhao. “Tell them all to stay. Tell them I command it.” 

The older man smiled. General Zhao was not a handsome man. He had a neck and shoulders like a bull, and coarse black hair covered his arms and chest so thickly, that there was barely any left for his head. Yet his smiles gave Azula comfort. “You are learning to talk like a queen Azula.”

“Not a queen,” said Azula. “A khaleesi.” She turned her wolf and rode down the ridge alone.  
The descent was steep, but Azula rode fearlessly, and the joy and the danger of it was a song inside of her. All her life Zuko had told her she was a princess, but not until she rode her wolf had Azula Sozin ever felt like one. 

At the bottom of the ridge, the tall snow rose around her. Azula slowed her wolf and rode out onto the plain, losing herself in the white, blessedly alone. In the khalasar, she was never alone. Khal Sokka came to her only as the sun was about to rise, but her handmaids fed her and bathed her and slept by the door of her tent, Sokka’s bloodriders and the men of her khas were never far, and her brother was an unwelcome shadow, day and night. Azula could hear him on the top of the ridge, his voice shrill with anger as he shouted at General Zhao. She rode on, submerging herself in the Water Tribe Sea.

The white swallowed her up. Many of the tribespeople wore light blue and white furs, their brown skin contrasted with the environment around them. One of the first days that they had begun their journey, Ming-Hua had presented Azula with a dark blue parka, dress and leggings trimmed with fur. Sokka too wore light colors like his people, so Azula inquired about the difference of her furs. Ming-Hua had given a small smile and said, “The Khal fears he will lose you in the snow, with your light skin. Says you need dark colors so he can find you.” That was the first indication Azula had that the fearsome warrior she had married might have some sense of humor.

The air was rich with the scent of fresh snow, mixed with the smell of damp wolf fur and the scented oil in Azula’s hair. They were smells of the Tribe. They seemed to belong here. Azula breathed it all in, laughing. She had the sudden urge to feel the snow beneath her, to curl her toes in the thickness of it. Swinging down from her saddle, she let Nymeria rest while she pulled off her high boots. 

Zuko came upon her as sudden as a summer storm, his wolf rearing beneath him as he reigned up too hard. “You dare!” he screamed at her. “You give commands to me? To me?” He vaulted off his wolf, stumbling as he landed. His face was flushed as he struggled back to his feet. He grabbed her, shook her. “Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!”

Azula didn’t need to look. She was barefoot, with braided hair, wearing Tribe furs her husband had gifted to her. She looked as though she belonged here. Zuko was soiled and stained in silks and ringmail. 

He was still screaming, “You do not command the dragon. Do you understand? I am the Lord of the Four Kingdoms, I will not hear orders from some peasant or his slut, do you hear me?” His fingers dug into her flesh painfully. “Do you hear me?” 

Azula shoved him away, hard.

Zuko stared at her, his golden eyes incredulous. She had never defied him. Never fought back. Rage twisted his features. He would hurt her now, and badly, she knew that.

Crack.

The whip made a sound like thunder. The coil took Zuko around the throat and yanked him backward. He went sprawling in the grass, stunned and choking. The riders hooted at him as he struggled to free himself. June held the handle of the whip and asked Azula a question. Azula was still so shocked to see her brother thrashing about that June repeated herself as General Zhao and the rest of her khas rode up, “Would you have him dead Khaleesi?” 

“No,” Azula replied, “No.”

One of the men barked out a comment and the others laughed. Zhao translated, “They think you should take an ear to teach him respect.”

Her brother was on his knees, his fingers digging under the leather coils, crying incoherently, struggling for breath. The whip was tight around his windpipe.

“Tell them I do not wish him harmed,” Azula said. 

Zhao repeated her words. June gave a pull on the whip, yanking Zuko around like a puppet on a string. He went sprawling again, freed from the leather embrace, a thin line of blood under his chin where the whip had cut deep.

“I warned him what would happen, my lady, “General Zhao said. “I told him to stay on the ridge as you commanded.”

“I know you did,” Azula replied, studying Zuko. He lay on the ground, sucking air noisily, red-faced and sobbing. He was a pitiful thing. He had always been a pitiful thing. Why had she never seen that before? There was a hollow place inside of her where her fear of him had been. 

“Take his wolf,” Azula commanded Zhao. Zuko gaped at her. He could not believe what he was hearing; nor could Azula quite believe what she was saying. Yet the words came, “Let my brother walk behind us back to the khalasar.” Among the Tribe, the man who does not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low, without honor or pride. “Let everyone see him as he is.”

“No!” Zuko screamed. He turned to Zhao, pleading in the Common Tongue with words the tribesmen would not understand. “Hit her, Zhao! Hurt her! Your king commands it. Kill these Water Tribe peasants and teach her!”

The older man looked from Azula to her brother; she barefoot, with snow between her toes and braids in her hair, he with his silks and steel. Azula could see the decision on his face,“He shall walk Khaleesi.” He took her brother’s wolf in hand while she remounted Nymeria. She gave one last mournful look at her brother, mourning the man she had thought he was, only now beginning to realize it was a facade. 

Zuko gaped at her, and sat down in the dirt. His eyes were full of poison as they rode away. He said to the wind, “My honor, my throne, my country...I’m about to lose them all.”

Soon he was lost in the snow. When they could not see him anymore, Azula grew fearful. “Will he find his way back?” She asked General Zhao as they rode. “Even a man as blind as your brother should be able to follow our trail,'' he replied.

“He is proud. He may be too shamed to come back.” Zhao laughed, “Where else should he go? If he cannot find the khalasar, the khalasar will most surely find him. It is hard to drown in the Tribe, child.”

Azula saw the truth of that. The khalasar was like a city on the march, but it did not march blindly. Always scouts ranged far ahead, alert for any sign of game or prey or enemies, while outriders guarded their flanks. They missed nothing, not here, in this land, the place where they had come from. These lands were a part of them...and of her, now.

“I hit him,” she said, wonder in her voice. Now that it was over, it seemed a strange dream. “General Zhao, do you think...he’ll be so angry when he gets back…” She shivered. “I woke the dragon, didn’t I?

Zhao snorted, “Can you wake the dead, girl? Your cousin Lu Ten was the last dragon, and he died at the Wall. Zuko is less than the shadow of a minksnake.” His blunt words startled her. It seemed as though all the things she suddenly believed were suddenly called into question. “You-you swore him your sword..”

“That I did girl,” Zhao agreed. “And if your brother is the shadow of a minksnake, what does that make his servants?” His voice was bitter.

“He is still the true king. He is…” Zhao pulled up his wolf and looked at her. “Truth now. Would you want to see Zuko sit a throne?” Azula thought about that. “He would not be a very good king, would he?”

“There have been worse… but not many.” The man gave his heels to his mount and started off again. Azula rode close behind him. “Still,” she said, “the common people are waiting for him. Uncle says they are sewing dragon banners and praying for Zuko to return from across the narrow sea to free them.”

“The common people pray for rain, healthy children, and a summer that never ends,” Zhao told her. “It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace.” He gave a shrug, “They never are.” 

Azula rode along quietly for a time, working his words like a puzzle. It went against everything Zuko had ever told her to think that the people could care so little whether a true king or a usurper reigned over them. Yet the more she thought on Zhao’s words, the more they rang of truth.

“What do you pray for, General Zhao?” “Home,” he said. His voice was thick with longing. “I pray for home too,” she told him, believing it.

Zhao laughed, “Look around you then, Khaleesi.” But it was not the snow Azula saw then. It was the Capital and the great Red Palace that her ancestors had built. It was Dragonstone where she had been born. In her mind’s eye they burned with a thousand lights, a fire blazing in every window. In her mind’s eye, all the doors were red. 

“My brother will never take back the Four Nations,” Azula said. She had known that for a long time, she realized. She had known it all her life. Only she had never let herself say the words, even in a whisper, but now she said them for General Zhao and all the world to hear.

Zhao gave her a measuring look. “You think not.” “He couldn’t lead an army even if my lord husband gave him one,” Azula said. “He has no coin and the only knight who follows him reviles him as less than a minksnake. The Tribe mocks his weakness. He will never take us home.” 

“Wise child,” the man smiled. “I am no child,” she retorted fiercely. Her heels pressed into the side of her wolf, rousing her to a gallop. Faster and faster she raced, leaving Zhao and June and the others behind, the sharp wind in her hair and the setting sun red on her face. By the time she reached the khalasar, it was dusk.

Her tent had been erected by the shore of a small pool. She could hear rough voices from the hill. Soon there would be laughter, when the men of her khas told the story of what happened in the snows today. By the time Zuko came limping back among them, every man, woman and child in camp would know him for a walker. There were no secrets in the khalasar.

Azula gave her wolf over to June for grooming and entered her tent. It was cool, but not unbearable. As she let the flap close behind her, Azula saw a finger of dusty red light reach out to touch her dragon’s eggs across the tent. For an instant, a thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes. She blinked, and they were gone. 

Stone, she told herself. They are only stone, even Uncle said so, the dragons are all dead. She put her palm against the black egg, fingers spread gently across the curve of the shell. The stone was warm. Almost hot. “The sun,” Azula whispered. “The sun warmed them as they rode.”

She commanded her handmaids to prepare her a bath. Jin built a fire outside the tent, while Ming-Hua and June fetched the big copper tub-another bride gift-from the pack horses and carried water from the pool. When the bath was steaming, Ming-Hua helped her into it and climbed in after her. 

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” she asked as Ming-Hua scrubbed her back and June sluiced small icicles from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the Spirit World. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild.

“Dragons are gone, Khaleesi,” Ming-Hua said. 

“Dead,” agreed June. “Long and long ago.” 

Zuko had told her that the last Sozin dragons had died no more than a century and a half ago, during the reign of Azulon, who was called the Dragonbane. That didn’t seem so long ago to Azula. “Everywhere?” she asked, disappointed. “Even in the Spirit World?” 

“No dragon,” Ming-Hua said. “Men kill them. It is known.”

“It is known,” agreed June.

“A trader once told me that dragons came from the moon,” Jin said as she warmed a towel over the fire. June and Ming-Hua were older than Azula, almost twenty and five. Jin was of age with Azula. Her brother had found the girl at a pleasure house in Ba Sing Se.

Jet black wet hair tumbled across her eyes as Azula turned her head, curious. “The moon?”

“He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi,” the Earth Kingdom girl said. “Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat, A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too, and then it will crack and the dragons will return.”

The two other servants gave her a perplexed look. “You are foolish, Earth peasant,” Ming-Hua said. “Moon is no egg. Moon is spirit, woman wife of sun. It is known.”

“It is known,” June agreed.

Azula’s skin was flushed and pink when she climbed from the tub. Ming-Hua laid her down to oil her body and scrape the dirt from her pores. Afterward June sprinkled her with vanilla and winterberry perfumes. While Jin brushed her hair until it shone like onyx, Azula thought about the moon, and eggs and dragons.

Supper was a simple meal of fruit and cheese and bread, with a jug of wine to wash it down. “Jin, stay and eat with me,” Azula commanded while she dismissed her other handmaidens. 

Jin lowered her eyes when they were alone. “You honor me Khaleesi,” she said, but it was no honor, only service. Long after the moon had risen, they sat together talking.

As the girls began to eat, Azula asked, “Why did the trader tell you that story about dragons?” Jin gave a soft smile, “Men like to talk after their pleasure. It is when they are happy”

Azula thought on it as she took a sip of wine, “Can you- can you teach me how to make the Khal happy?” Jin chewed thoughtfully, “You have done it though, yes?” Azula glanced sideways, “Yes, but-” “But you want him to feel for you?” She wasn’t sure, but Azula responded, “Something like that.”

Jin nodded, “How does he take you?” The Princess was slightly affronted by how brazen her handmaiden was, but she answered “As all the Tribe does.” Jin chided, “No, no. You must look upon his face. You must use your eyes to make him feel for you. It was said that Irogenia of the Northern Air Temple could finish a man with just a look. Men traveled across the world for a night with her. They sold their riches. Fire Nation men burned her enemies just to have her for a few hours with her. They say a thousand men proposed to her and she refused them all.” 

Azula poked at her food, “I don’t think the Khal would approve of me on top of him.” Jin looked at her knowingly, “Do not worry Khaleesi. You will make him enjoy it. Men want what they have never had. The Tribe take women like wolf takes a bitch. You are not bitch, you will not make love like bitch. You are Khaleesi.” 

The Earth Kingdom girl stood from where they were eating and beckoned Azula to her, “Come Khaleesi. I will show you.” Azula tentatively followed this girl that seemed to have no issue instructing her Khaleesi. Azula sat on the floor of her tent and Jin shamelessly climbed into her lap. She took Azula’s small hands and put them on her hips as she began to sway, “Like this Khaleesi.” Azula felt Jin’s body press into hers, rubbing together through their many layers of furs.

Azula thought upon her handmaiden’s earlier words and easily flipped the other girl underneath her. Jin let out small laugh, “You are fast learner Khaleesi. Out there he is mighty Khal, but at night he is yours.”

The princess pulled back, “This is not the way of the Tribe.” Jin sat up following her, “Khaleesi, if he wanted way of the Tribe, why did he marry you?” 

That night, when Khal Sokka came, Azula was waiting for him. He stood in the door of her tent and looked at her with surprise. She rose slowly and undressed, letting her furs fall to the ground. “This night we must go outside, my lord,” she told him. For the Tribe believed that all things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneath the open sky. 

Khal Sokka followed her out into the moonlight, his long’s wolf tail blew in the breeze. A few yards from her tent was a bed of soft furs, and it was there that Azula drew him down. When he tried to turn her on her stomach, she put her delicate hand on his massive chest. “No,” she said in the Tribe language she was still stumbling on, “This night I would look on your face.”

There is no privacy in the heart of the khalasar. Azula could feel the many eyes on her as she undressed him, heard the soft voices as she did the things Jin told her to do to give a man pleasure. It was nothing to her. Was she not Khaleesi? Her Khal’s eyes were the only ones that mattered, and when she mounted him she saw something in his face that she had never seen before. She rode him as fiercely as ever and when the moment of his pleasure came- Khal Sokka called out her name. 

They were on the far side of the Watertribe Sea when Ming-Hua brushed the soft swell of Azula’s stomach with her fingers and said, “Khaleesi, you are with child.” 

“I know,” Azula told her. 

It was her nineteenth name day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long delay between updating. 
> 
> Shoutout to Seyary_Minimoto who commented in chapter 1 with a fantastic comparison of Zuko and Viserys. Their comment is the reason I mixed in some of Zuko's lines from the show and will probably write in more as we keep going.


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